Go Get 'Em, Cowboy
by Rosebud5
Summary: Jack Kelly wasn't born Jack Kelly. It took him plenty of high times and hard times to get there. This is a series of one-shots and drabbles following the life of the beloved strike leader up to the infamous strike and a short while after. T for safety
1. Birth of a Legend

Hey guys! So I'm in a MAJOR _Newsies _(and, therefore, Jack) mood, and this story popped out. It's inspired by Lady Lila's MARVELOUS fic "Spot's Story," which I HIGHLY recommend. I'm not a Spot fan, and that story made me like him five thousand times more than I did before. Yeah. It's that good.

**A/N: This is going to be a series of one-shots and drabbles about how Jack Kelly got to be where he was when we first met him, and will follow him through the strike and a little after.**

**Disclaimer:** Though I own a red bandanna, the movie soundtrack, the DVD, a Newsies cap, and I like to get the paper for my mom and "improve the truth" on the headlines before giving it to her, I am not Disney nor Kenny Ortega nor Alan Menkin nor Christian Bale nor Kloppmann nor even Sarah Jacobs, who is in lucky and unfair possession of my Jacky's heart.

~Rosey

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><p><strong>Go Get 'Em, Cowboy<strong>

_Birth of a Legend_

Jack Kelly wasn't born Jack Kelly.

He wasn't even born in America.

He was born Francis Sullivan. The date? May 10, 1882. The place? Tullamore, Ireland. The parents? Kelly and John Sullivan.

Yes, Jack Kelly had parents. Of course he did. Every child does at one point. Children don't come out of nowhere, boys and girls. Frankie (as Jack was known then) had a mother who loved him more than life itself.

His father did not. His father never wanted a son in the first place, and would have much rather just lived happily and alone with his beloved wife. But even then Francis Sullivan wanted to see the world.

And so, on an early morning on an aforementioned date, Francis Sullivan (who would in the future be one of the best newsies in New York; who would become the Great Jack Kelly; who would lead a strike against the biggest newspaper giant in the world and win) came into the world, opened his mouth wide...

And started bawling. He was a regular baby, this future strike leader. He wasn't born with a burst of fireworks or with any special abilities. He just knew he was hungry and wanted his mama.

So Kelly Sullivan rocked her son back and forth like many mothers do, singing him an old Irish song. _"Toor-a-loor-a-loora...Hush now don't you cry..." _She looked down at her baby and beamed proudly. "And won't you be the best lad in Ireland?" she smiled after she was done singing, kissing Frankie on the head. "My little precious lad...Gonna grow up and be as handsome as his father and then some." Kelly bit her lip, thinking about her husband who had gone out to a bar hours ago and was yet to return. "Your daddy's a bit narky at times, Frankie. But I swear he won't lay a finger on you while I'm around, me little snapper."

Francis Sullivan had by now fallen asleep, nestled against his mother with his thumb in his mouth. (Oh, how the future newsies would hold it over his head if they knew this was a habit of his until he was six!)

And thus was the birth of what would grow to be a legend. But there were plenty of high times and hard times before Francis Sullivan would write STRIKE on the headline board in New York in 1899.

And these are those stories.

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><p>Well there's the prologuefirst drabble! Tell me what you think of this idea and what other stories from Jack's life you would like to see in a...**REVIEW! They get you hugs from every single Newsie. Yeah. I have that power;)**

~Rosey


	2. A Dream Called Santa Fe

Hey all! Here's chappy two. Hope you are enjoying it!

**A/N: Yes, part of this IS based off my other little-baby-Jacky story "What My Mother Called Me." I just fell in love with that concept of how he got his name and his love for Santa Fe. If you all want to read that story for comparison, far be it from me to stop you;)**

~Rosey

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><p><em>A Dream Called Santa Fe<em>

"Mama?" Francis woddled up to his mother, a puzzled expression on his four-year-old countenance. "Why you rubbin' your tummy again?"

"Because, love," Kelly smiled, leaning down and putting her son's hand to her swollen belly, "You're baby brother or sister is in there."

"Oh yeah!" Frankie beamed happily. "I forgotted." He paused for a moment before looking back up at his mother. "Mama? How come we moved here and not Santa Fe like you always talk about?"

Kelly beamed slightly and lifted her son into her ever-reducing lap. "I've told you, darling. We moved here to Manhattan when you were a wee babe and hadn't the money to go to Santa Fe."

"But we will soon, right, Mommy?" Francis giggled joyfully.

"Aye, son. Soon," Kelly kissed her son on the head. Yes, even the great Jack Kelly got kisses on the head from his mother. He was just like you and I.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, love?"

"Tell me the story about Santa Fe and Cowboy Jack," Frankie pleaded. "It's my favorite story ever."

And so Kelly Sullivan held her son close and told him his favorite story about a cowboy named Jack who lived in a wonderland called Santa Fe and defeated all the money-greedy bad-guys with his wit and strength. Even Jack Kelly had stories his mama told to him when he was a child, and Cowboy Jack was his favorite. He requested it at least twice a day.

"And that's the end," Kelly whispered after the story was complete. However, when she looked down at her son, he was fast asleep in her lap, his thumb stuck stubbornly in his mouth. She smiled and held him close, letting him rest peacefully. His father would be home soon, and no doubt in a drunken-rage. Kelly bit back pain at the thought of how much John had changed in the past four years. She held Frankie closer, refusing to let anyone or anything touch her baby. Even the future Jack Kelly needed a mother's love and protection.

And, for a while, he had it.

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><p>Well, there's how he got his love for Santa Fe AND where he got "Jack." In the next chapter he meet Spot, so if you wanna see that up soon...<p>

**REVIEW! :)**

~Rosey


	3. He Don't Make Me Nervous

Hey guys! Okay, Spot fans! This chapter is for you:)

~Rosey

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><p><em>He Don't Make Me Nervous<em>

When Francis Sullivan first met Spot Conlon, it wasn't in some giant show-down between Manhattan and Brooklyn. It wasn't in some pre-strike get-together with a secret truce between the newsies. Both these future newsie leaders were tiny children at one point, dear reader, and it was when they were tiny children that they met.

Andy, Frankie's baby brother, lay in Kelly's arms in a park in Manhattan while Francis played by himself a short distance away. "Mama!" he called over to his mother proudly. "I'm Cowboy Jack and I'm gonna go find a bad guy!"

"Okay, Jack," Kelly smiled with a wink. "Just don't wander too far!" Kelly had taken to calling Francis 'Jack' lately, because it made her son impossibly happy and proud, and made him forget his father if just for a moment.

Frankie scurried over to a bench, scrambling up on to it and putting his hands on his hips. "I am Cowboy Jack!" he crowed. "And bad guys are scared of me!"

"_You _thcare me," a tiny voice came from behind Francis.

The boy turned around and came face to face with a lad a few years younger than himself, with shockingly blue eyes and blond hair. The smaller boy stood there, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised, all the air of at least a six year old about him. But his shrimp-size and little-boy face gave him away, and Frankie sized him up to not be too much of a big threat. Francis jumped off the bench and looked at the new boy curiously.

"Hello," Frankie said. "I am Cowboy Jack."

"I'm Thpot," the littler boy lisped (Ah, the great Spot Conlon with a lisp! One he held until he was several years older!), "Ith your real name Cowboy Jack?"

"No. But is YOUR real name Spot?" Frankie retored, hands on his hips.

"No. My Mommy callth me that," Spot replied.

"My Mommy calls me Jack," Frankie said with an air of finality. "So dat's dat." Francis's signature Manhattan accent was developing with his talking and vocabulary, but he hardly realized it until a certain Oscar Delancy pointed it out when he was ten. But that's another chapter.

"I have a baby brother," Frankie decided to brag about his brother, who he loved so much that his mother would sometimes be moved to tears. "His name is Andy."

"I have a big brother," Spot said with a wince. "He ithn't very nithe."

"I'm sorry," Francis frowned. "My daddy isn't very nice. He isn't home much, and I hate it when he is."

"That'th like my brother," Spot replied, plopping on the bench and crossing his arms. He paused for a moment before looking up at Francis. "Let'th be friendth, Jacky Boy."

"Okay," Francis grinned. "Friends!"

And thus was the start of a wild and reckless friendship.

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><p>Aww! Well I hope you all liked that initial meeting! The next chapter will focus more on the JackFrancis and Andy relationship, which is VERY important.

**REVIEWS GET YOU NEWSIE HUGS!**

**Oh! And I'm getting my wisdom teeth out Monday...I'm terrified! If any of you can offer comfort of ANY sort, it will be VERY appreciated. I need it badly. Thank you.  
><strong>

~Rosey


	4. Brotherly Love

Hey guys! Here's chapter four! Enjoy!

~Rosey

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><p><em>Brotherly Love<em>

"Lemme catch it!" Andy bounced up and down happily on his little rear end.

"Okay," Frankie laughed, rolling the tiny ball across the floor to his toddler-brother.

Andy held out his pudgy hands and caught it just as it reached his feet and he held it triumphantly, laughing in glee. "I caughted it, Frankie!"

"Good job!" Francis chuckled, his nine-year-old countance happy. "Now roll it back!"

"No! It's mine!" Andy giggled, shaking his head. "You can't has it back!"

"But dat's how you play the game!" Francis crossed his arms. "I throw you da ball and then you give it back!"

"But it's mine!" Andy whined.

Frankie sighed. "Okay. You can keep it, Andy."

"Yay!" Andy threw his arms around Francis in a hug, a huge grin on his face. "You're the best big brother ever!"

Francis laughed and hugged Andy back. "Tank you. You're da best little brother ever."

And as Kelly Sullivan watched from the door way, she wiped tears from her eyes before turning to go into the kitchen. "If only their father held that much love."

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><p>Yes, this was very much a short drabble, but it was cute and, trust me, VERY important!<p>

**Review please?**

~Rosey


	5. Of Kings and Accents

Hey all! Here's chapter five. Sorry for the wait...Life's been wild! Hope everyone is enjoying this so far!

~Rosey

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><p><em>Chapter Five: Of Kings and Accents<em>

"When we grow up," Spot said to Frankie one afternoon when the future Jack Kelly was eleven years old. "I'm goin' ta be da King of Brooklyn."

Francis looked at his friend for a moment before shaking his head. "Dat's da dumbest ting I've ever heard."

"Well I am!" Spot crossed his arms. "Just you wait and see."

"Dere's no King of Brooklyn, Spot!" Francis argued. Ah, arguing with Spot Conlon. Only the Jack-to-Be could do that and live.

"I'll be da foist!" Spot replied stubbornly. "And den dere will be."

Suddenly, the boys we know as Oscar and Morris Delancy approached them for the first of many times. You see, Spot and Frankie were sitting on a bench near the newspaper distribution center, even if those words meant nothing to them at the time, and Oscar and Morris decided they wanted that bench all to themselves.

"That's my bench," Oscar said, crossing his arms.

"Don't see ya name on it," Frankie rose an eye-brow.

"Ya better move it," Morris threatened.

"Or what?" Spot snapped.

"Or...you'll be sorry," Oscar said lamely.

"Oh my, my," Francis said sarcastically. "What am I gonna do now, huh Spot? Dese boys got me scared ta death."

Now back then the Delancy brothers had possibly the worst comebacks in New York (they never really improved that much) and all they managed to say was "Your accent's stupid."

This was an awful comeback seeing how they themselves had a similar accent and the argument wasn't even over accents in the first place, but it was the first time Francis Sullivan noticed the way he talked. But he decided he liked it, so he simply said "It ain't nice to call tings stupid, ya rubbahneck, unless you're lookin' at yourself in a mirror or somethin'."

"Oscar! Morris!" Suddenly, a very portly man appeared near the bench, an eye-brow raised. "Quit talkin' to these street-rats and come along."

"Yes, Uncle Weisel," the brothers grumbled, tossing Frankie and Spot one last look before following their uncle away from the bench.

"Do I really got an accent den, Spot?" Francis asked when they were gone.

"Yep. I gots one too, I guess," Spot replied.

Francis paused for a moment before smiling. "I like it." He got to his feet, facing his friend one last time. "I gotta get goin'. Mama's not doin' good and Dad ain't home. I gotta take care of Andy. Mama said she could do it herself but she's real bad off. See ya later, Spot."

"Bye-ya, Jacky Boy," Spot smiled, using the name Frankie perferred.

And with that, Francis was gone.

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><p>Ooohhh things are starting to fall into place, yeah? Well if you wanna know what happens...<p>

**REVIEW!**

~Rosey


	6. And then There was Cowboy

Hey all! I know I haven't updated this in FOREVER...Life's been wild! But here's the next chapter. It's a sad one...You might want a tissue or two.

~Rosey

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><p><em>Chapter Six: And Then there was Cowboy<em>

"Mama?" Frankie softly stepped into his mother's darkened room, his heart pounding inside him. "Mama, Andy's takin' a nap and I-"

"Frankie?" her hoarse and weak voice stopped him mid-sentence, and she reached out a hand to him. He numbly went over to her and let her hold his hand. He looked down at her and hardly recognized her. Her face was as white as the pillows and her eyes were darkly circled. "Frankie, honey, you know Mama's sick, yes?"

"Yeah," Francis sniffed, trying to blink back the tears he could feel forming behind his eyes. "I know."

"Well, Cowboy Jack," she whispered with a tiny smile, using her favorite nickname for her son, "I don't think I'll be here too much longer."

"N-no, Mama," Frankie's voice broke. "Don't say dat."

"Honey, I'm going to need you to look after your brother, alright? And don't go letting your father hurt you neither. Cowboy Jack's gotta stay strong," Kelly mumbled gently, reaching out and putting a hand to her son's cheek.

"I'm not Cowboy Jack," Frankie said wobbly, a tear sliding down his cheek.

"What are ya talking about, me little snapper?" she raised her head slightly off the pillow, her smile growing. "You'll always be Cowboy Jack." She weakly pointed over to her dresser. "Go look in the bottom drawer, Frankie."

Hesitating half a second, Francis went over to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer. And inside was a red bandanna, a black cowboy hat several sizes too big, and a dime-store novel about a wild west cowboy. Biting his lip, Frankie gathered the things in his hands and went over to his mother's bedside again. "What's all dis stuff?" he asked, laying it on the bed.

"I was saving it for your birthday, but now's as good a time as any," Kelly smiled weakly. "Try the bandanna and hat on."

Tears still in his eyes, Frankie shakily tied the bandanna around his neck and put the hat on his head. "Tank you, Mama."

"The hat's a little big, but you'll grow into it," she gently took her son's hand in her again. "And the book...I'm sure you can read it. Do you know where it takes place?"

"Where?"

"Santa Fe," Kelly beamed feebly. "Read it to Andy."

"Okay, Mama," Frankie sniffed, the hat on his head sliding slightly down over his eyes. He pushed it back and watched his mother for one more moment. "I love you."

"I love you too, Jack."

Kelly slowly closed her eyes.

And Cowboy Jack broke down and cried.

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><p>*Sniff* I hate killing off characters...But it had to be done.<p>

So...What did you think? Please, PLEASE tell me in a

**REVIEW!**

~Rosey


	7. Lost and Afraid

Hey guys! Sorry for the wait... Here's the next chapter! This is chapter is NOT for younger kids due to hints of child abuse. Sorry! Poor Jacky didn't exactly have an ideal childhood:(

Disclaimer: *sigh*

~Rosey

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><p><em>Chapter Seven: Lost and Afraid<em>

"And da cowboy got on his horse and rode off into da sunset, tinking about what other adventures awaited him da next morning in Santa Fe," thirteen-year-old Frankie closed the book, turning to Andy with a small smile. "The end."

Andy curled up against his brother's shoulder, looking up at Frankie. "I wanna go to Santa Fe, Frankie," he mumbled.

"We will," Francis promised. But even back then Francis Sullivan wasn't the best at thinking things all the way through, and he honestly had no idea how he would keep that promise to his younger brother.

Frankie shifted in the chair, wincing as his broken arm was jostled. He was relieved his father wasn't home at the moment, and he savored every second Mr. Sullivan wasn't in the house. Frankie's black eye also throbbed with pain and he sighed, missing his mother more than anything. When she was alive, at least his father would leave him alone. Now that she was gone, he had no such luck.

"Frankie?" Andy spoke up, looking up at his brother again. "I want a bandanna too."

Francis fingered the red bandanna around his neck, nodding. "I'll get ya one, Andy." Again, he had no idea how, but that was no matter to either of them.

"So...how'd ya sleep last night?" Andy asked, trying to make any kind of conversation at all.

"On me back, Andy," Frankie replied with a tiny smirk. Yes, my dear reader, his Jack Kelly wise-guy personality was developing, and, yes, he rather liked it.

Andy chuckled, nodding. "You always say dat."

"It's usually true, too," Frankie laughed, ruffling Andy's hair.

Suddenly, the door to the apartment burst open and Mr. Sullivan stumbled in, a beer bottle in his hand. "Hey!" he slurred, walking unsteadily. "Don't you know how to greet yer father when he comes home?"

"Hey, Pop," Frankie said nervously, getting to his feet. He faced Andy and whispered to him in a quiet voice. "Go get in the closet."

Knowing better than to argue, Andy hurried towards the closet and shut the door while Frankie faced their father.

Then, everything happened too fast. Mr. Sullivan made a lunge at Frankie, but tripped in his drunken state and slipped, the beer bottle flying from his hand onto the lit stove. An explosive sound erupted into the air, and a massive fire spread from the stove to the floor almost instantly. Mr. Sullivan made some drunken slur and then raced out the door. Frankie hurried towards the closet, screaming to Andy. But the door was stuck. He heard his brother inside. He had to get him out he had to get him out he had to get him...

But the smoke was so thick and black that Francis couldn't breathe, and when he fell and hit his head against the closet door handle, everything went totally black.

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><p>DUN DUN DUNN! CLIFFY!<p>

PS: Child abuse is a very serious and real problem. If you or anyone you know has problems with this horrible crime, please contact an adult near to you for help.

**REVIEW please!**

~Rosey


	8. Fire Damage

Hey all! So...time for more crying...Sorry. This story's gonna be pretty dark for a while, but it's necessary. However, I promise, things will brighten up! High times, hard times, ya know? ;-)

P.S.: To those of you who read _His Hero, His Brother_, I changed what happens to Andy. So...for better or worse...here it is.

Disclaimer: *ugg* Don't. Own. Newsies.

~Rosey

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><p><em>Chapter Eight: Fire Damage<em>

When Frankie finally managed to drag his eyes open, he was confused and terrified. The room he was in was very bright and white and...clean. Andy...Where was his brother? He had to help him!

Panic filled him and he tried to push himself up, only to find he somehow lacked the strength. "Hey, hey," a gentle voice came from beside him and he looked over to find a young woman dressed in white sitting by his bedside, who gently pushed him back into the pillows. "Take it easy, honey. Just lay still."

"Where's my brother?" Francis demanded hoarsely, his heart racing uncontrollably.

The young woman bit her lip before gently taking his hand in hers. "Don't worry about that right now, dear. I'm Nurse Amy, and you're in Manhattan Hospital. Do you remember what happened?"

"I...tink so," Frankie mumbled with a wince. "Da fire...Dere was a fire, right?"

"Yes, there was. Caused by your father," Nurse Amy said solemnly. "He was arrested only a few hours after the fire on several accounts...And how beat up you were didn't help his case any."

Francis just shrugged, honestly glad to know that Mr. Sullivan was where he belonged: behind bars.

"We hardly got you out in time," Nurse Amy broke him from her thoughts with these words. "We almost lost you."

"But you got my bruddah out too, right?" Francis asked, struggling to sit up again. When Nurse Amy made no response, he forced himself to sit up, despite the pain that hit him hard. "You _did _get my bruddah out, right?"

Nurse Amy gently pushed Frankie back into the pillows, her eyes sad. "We tried to, dear. We did our very best. But...We were too late. I'm so, so sorry."

Francis fell silent, tears pricking his eyes, his heart stopping inside him, his entire body going icy cold. "You...You're lyin'. You have to be lyin'." When the nurse only shook her head, Francis felt the tears coming down his face, but somehow wasn't aware that he was crying. Andy...His only real family left...No, no! This couldn't be happening!

"Francis? Are you alright?" Nurse Amy asked gently.

"Kelly!" Frankie snapped, looking up at her with dull eyes that were somehow also full of passion. In that one moment, everything changed. He wasn't Francis any more...That was linked with too many losses. He was Cowboy Jack. He was Kelly Sullivan's son... "I'm Jack Kelly."

And he stopped crying. Because somehow he knew that Jack Kelly didn't cry. Nothing left him broken.

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><p>AHH! And thus he becomes Jack! Yes, I'm aware lots of changes just happened super fast, but that's the point. Everything changed super fast...too fast...for Francis, so he became Jack Kelly, who he knew would be able to deal with all of the crap he was dealt and make the best of it.<p>

So. Yes.

Review?

~Rosey


	9. Cowboy Break Out

Hey guys! Sorry for the wait...I've literally had no free time. College tours, audition stuffs, show choir concert rehearsals, Speech and Debate competitions...Life's crazy! But totally awesome;) But, no, don't worry, I'm not leaving Fan-fiction, updates will just be very slow and spread out. I'm sorry, but what can ya do?

Well, here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not Disney, not Ortega, not Menken, not Bale. Just a Newsie fan-girl. One of many.

~Rosey

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><p><em>Cowboy Break Out<em>

Francis...No, Jack Kelly now...was breaking out.

No, not out of the refuge, my dear readers. Not yet. Slow down.

Out of the hospital.

They had told him he would need to stay for at least four nights under observation, for both his physical injuries and his emotional scars from losing his brother. But Jack needed _out. _And he needed out right then.

And so, one night around eleven thirty, Jack Kelly put on his old clothes that they had given him from the few objects saved from the fire, tied the bandanna firmly around his neck, slipped his cowboy hat on (which almost fit him now) and stepped quietly into the hospital's dimly lit hallway.

Now, reader, you may think that Jack Kelly's first escape was a fantastic, history-making one full of bed-sheet ropes and future president's carriages. But you're too eager. Jack's room in the hospital was on the first floor and nobody was in the halls. Jack literally snuck down an empty hallway and went out through the back door of the hospital. I'm sorry, you think this is going too fast? You think I'm leaving out details just to get this written? Well, I'm sorry to tell you, but you're wrong. If you had been there, you wouldn't have described it any differently. There were no footsteps down another hall, there was no turning back for "one final look" from Jack, there was no solo song and dance number about Santa Fe before he left this perpetual prison. Jack Kelly simply took a deep breath, said a little prayer for the first time in a long time, opened the door, and stepped out into the chilly Manhattan night air.

It was pitch dark outside, and if it wasn't for a few flickering street lights, Jack couldn't have seen anything. He tilted his hat down a little further over his eyes and slowly made his way down the streets away from the hospital, really too tired and broken over his brother to care where he was headed, so long as he was going _somewhere._ That's a strange thing about people who are sad or scared about something...They always have to be going Somewhere, and it doesn't matter where Somewhere is as long as they get there.

As he walked, Jack's mind wandered to Spot. Where was he? Would Jack ever see him again? He hoped he would...Even though they didn't alway get along perfectly, Spot was undeniably his closest friend, and Jack missed him.

A rumble in Jack's stomach woke him from these thoughts and he winced, trying to think of where he could possibly get food. For half a second, he thought he had to get Andy some food too. Then he remembered and he shoved the thought of his brother's passing out of his mind and focused on finding a meal somewhere. He was starving, though he didn't want to admit it to himself. Before the fire, he hadn't gotten to eat properly, because he was just a kid and with his mom gone he didn't know how to get any sort of food. And then in the hospital, he hadn't been able to eat anything...Everything tasted horrible to him. But now he was starving, and he knew he needed food soon or Jack Kelly would come to an end just as quickly as he came to be.

Sleep was drawing on his eyes and he yawned, blinking heavily. He saw that he was approaching the Horace Greeley statue that he loved so much due to it's quote engraved on the bottom. "Go West, Young Man."

_Go West, Cowboy Jack._

Even more tired than he was hungry, Jack Kelly climbed up on to the statue and laid down in the bronze man's arms, closing his eyes. And he fell asleep wondering just how one goes about stealing food.

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><p>Phew! All that for this one little chapter? Though I think it may be one of the longer chappys actually...Hahahaha<p>

Anywho, as you can piece together, LOTS of things are about to start happening, so keep an eye out for more updates and carry the banner!

~Rosey


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